Small Things
by cruisedirector
Summary: Javert rescues a kitten and lives change. Warning: men in romantic situations.


**Chapter 1 **

The mayor sees the crowd of children from a distance. At first, he thinks they must be playing a game around the tree. It's only when he approaches, smiling, that he hears the crying boy and the others calling and jeering. That's also when he notices the tiny kitten in the tree, clinging to a high branch, mewling helplessly.

He quickens his pace, but before he can reach the group, an officer crosses the lane. Even from this distance, he can see that it's Javert. That rigid posture is unmistakable. Madeleine hesitates - he avoids confrontations, indeed conversations, with Javert whenever possible, he wants no reminders that the name of Madeleine is a false one and that any small error might give him away - and in that moment, Javert reaches the children.

From behind another tree, Madeleine watches the small group. One of the older girls points out the kitten to Javert. The Inspector drops to one knee, trying to speak to the sobbing boy. Javert's usual expression could frighten a guard dog; it is not hard to guess the effect it would have on a young boy or a small kitten. Madeleine imagines that Javert must be telling the boy that this is his own fault for letting his cat climb the tree, that the boy has failed in his responsibilities.

Had Javert not arrived, Madeleine might by now have persuaded one of the others to climb up, perhaps for a coin, but now the others shrink back as Javert speaks to them. The oldest boys dash off. Perhaps the Inspector has threatened to arrest them all for disturbing the peace.

Javert glances up, hands on his hips, his entire posture declaring his exasperation. The boy cries, inconsolable. Though Madeleine tries to think like the Bishop always, to be charitable - Javert has no children, he may not know how to comfort a child, he sees all crowds as a rabble, his duty is to maintain order - the mayor is on the verge of marching over to protest, to call Javert cruel. To remember the time he does not let himself remember and the name he will never dare to call himself even in his thoughts.

Then Javert hands his hat to the child and places his hands against the tree. Everyone else goes still, even the boy and the mewing kitten. They all watch silently as Javert grasps a branch and pulls himself up, limb by limb, climbing the tree. Javert is surprisingly agile. For a man of such measured gait and gestures, the display seems flamboyant, seductive. Watching him, Madeleine feels his chest tighten, and his belly, and below.

The kitten shrinks back as the branch shakes at Javert's approach. It's obvious that Javert is speaking to it, but Madeleine is not close enough to hear. He imagines the Inspector trying to order it down, telling the kitten that it has violated the rules, and a smile pushes across his face. Perhaps Javert is attempting to reason with it instead, though Madeleine finds it unthinkable that Javert would offer a bribe like food to a miscreant like the kitten.

Of course, Madeleine would never have envisioned Javert climbing a tree with such grace, either. He guesses that Javert must have climbed trees as a small boy, though he has trouble picturing Javert as a small boy. Surely he didn't always have such a deliberate walk, such controlled expressions. Perhaps he was once the sort of boy who cried when kittens got stuck in trees. What could have changed him into this sort of man?

No. This is idle speculation. There's no need to find excuses to feel sorry for anyone as ruthless and cold-hearted as the Inspector.

Javert reaches the kitten. He pulls his hand back once as if it has been scratched, then reaches out again, firmly grasping the lump of fur as it whines in protest. His descent is less nimble because of the creature's squirming, yet Madeleine is still uncomfortably aware of the man's body in a way he has never allowed himself to notice before.

When Javert's feet are on the ground, the boy drops the hat to fling himself at the Inspector and the kitten both. Madeleine can't make out Javert's expression but he can tell from the awkward posture that Javert is unaccustomed to being embraced. Quickly, the Inspector sets boy and cat aside to retrieve his hat, straightening as he places it on his head to resume what Madeleine (_what Valjean_) has always seen as immovable, implacable rigidity.

The children are already dispersing by the time he steps across the lane, nodding to Javert and daring a smile. "I didn't know you climbed trees, Inspector. That was kind of you."

"I did not do it to be kind." Javert's jaw sets as his cheeks redden, making Madeleine sorry to have buried an earnest compliment within teasing banter. "It's my duty to keep the peace."

"That went beyond duty. I thank you, on behalf of the child and his kitten both." Now that they are standing so close, Madeleine can see that the animal did indeed scratch Javert's face as well as his hand. Pulling out a handkerchief, he offers it to Javert. "I'm afraid you've been wounded."

"It is a small thing." At first Madeleine thinks that Javert will reject the square of cloth, then Javert's hand jerks upward, fingers brushing the mayor's as he accepts it. "Thank you, Monsieur." He dabs at his cheek, leaving a bright red stain on the pale fabric. "I'm afraid I've soiled your handkerchief."

"That, too, is a small thing." The tightness in Madeleine's belly returns as they glance at one another. "I was on my way to the bakery. Have you eaten?" He gestures down the lane.

Again, from the uneasy twitch of Javert's mouth, Madeleine expects to find himself refused. But after a moment, the Inspector turns in the direction he is pointing, and when Madeleine steps forward, Javert falls into step beside him.

**Chapter 2 **

"Look, it's Javert! Javert!"

Children run after him now. They have been told to call him Inspector, but they forget. The boy whose kitten he rescued follows him adoringly, trying to mimic his walk. Even the mothers greet him warmly, with baskets full of eggs and cheese, to ask how to keep chickens safe from foxes and what to feed an ailing pig.

"I'm ruined," Javert mutters.

"On the contrary." Madeleine forces himself not to smile. It has been a strange month. As impressed as the mayor may be to see the Inspector belatedly admired by people who had regarded him with suspicion, Madeleine can't forget that it used to be himself to whom such problems were addressed. He and Javert have always regarded one another uneasily, dancing around each other's toes in matters of municipal authority. People had obeyed the mayor out of respect, the policeman out of fear. Now Madeleine worries about Javert's popularity, for his approach to keeping the peace is very different from Javert's.

"Look, Javert!" A breathless boy has raced over to them, holding up a wriggling puppy. "Paquet traded him to me for my _carnier_!" Madeleine swallows another smile, for he knows that Paquet's dog gave birth to six more. Perhaps the little mongrel will eventually catch as much food as it will steal from the family's table.

The squirming puppy's tongue shoots out to taste Javert's chin. "Stop that," Javert orders in his sternest voice. Heedless, the dog licks Javert's entire face, emitting excited whimpering noises as the boy prattles on about his luck in receiving a puppy for no more than an old leather game bag. Javert must be ticklish, for a small, strangled laugh bursts out of him. Madeleine knows from Javert's steely glare that he has not been successful at keeping the grin from his own face as he watches Javert try to divert the attentions of dog and boy alike.

"You see? I'm ruined," says Javert again, wiping his face with his handkerchief when at last the boy has raced off to show off his prize to the two young Fournier girls. "They will never obey me now as an officer of the law."

"They have discovered that you are a man of unexpected skills. It won't damage their respect for you if they like you." So many unfamiliar impulses plague Madeleine. He wants to wipe Javert's face with his own handkerchief, to let his fingers slip and discover how the other man's whiskers feel. He wants to cover Javert's fingers with his own and squeeze them. He wants to disappear inside his house until such feelings disappear, though more and more often they will not vanish even when Javert is nowhere near.

The owner of the rescued kitten comes up the lane. He takes a moment to inspect the puppy, gives an unimpressed shrug, and marches up to Javert and the Mayor. "I had to arrest my cat," he tells Javert. "She made a hole in my blanket."

Madeleine covers another smile with his hand, but Javert frowns. "Where have you put her?"

"In the crate where Papa keeps his things from the army."

Javert's stance does not change, but Madeleine thinks he looks relieved. "You should go at once to take her out," orders Javert. "A kitten could suffocate inside a box. And if she makes a mess, you may both be punished."

The boy's eyes widen and his lower lip trembles. "I will be beaten!" Before either man can speak further, he turns and runs back in the direction of his home.

"That is the leader of all your admirers," Madeleine says, allowing his smile to be seen, but Javert's expression grows dark, his shoulders set.

"His father should not beat him."

Madeleine (_still Valjean, he is always Valjean, and this is his jailer_) lets his breath out slowly. He would not have expected this from the Inspector. "Surely you don't mean that parents should not discipline their children?"

"A child of that age?" Javert gestures after the boy. "He has no more understanding of rules than his kitten. He requires instruction, not beatings."

Again Madeleine wonders about Javert as a boy, before he became obsessed with the law. Before Toulon. The sort of boy who rescued kittens? Who was beaten for breaking rules he could not comprehend?

It is hard to reconcile this perturbed Javert with the Javert who has no sympathy for men desperate to feed their families. Perhaps the Inspector feels responsibility toward a boy who has taken a liking to him. It is something Madeleine understands as a factory owner, though he believes the harshness of Toulon drains most feeling out of guards and prisoners alike. Valjean was imprisoned long enough to see how young guards who believed that they could reform the prisoners quickly came to accept that they could only hope to control them.

Gesturing after the boy, Madeleine says, "He is not afraid of you. He smiles when he sees you. If his parents were cruel to him, I doubt it would be so."

Javert's cheeks have reddened. "He smiles because I retrieved his kitten. He does not know me. None of these people do."

"Is there so much darkness in your heart that they would flee from you if they did?" Madeleine keeps his voice light, but he can't forget who Javert is, nor who he is himself. He rarely has such conversations with anyone else and he doubts Javert does either. Perhaps it should not be surprising that two men in their positions should speak companionably to one another, but it occurs to Madeleine that Javert is in his own way as isolated as himself, even with this newfound regard from the people in the town.

Like himself, Javert must be distrustful of this sort of happiness.

"You have made their lives easier," he tells Javert. "And mine as well."

Warily, Javert returns his smile, making Madeleine wish that there was not so much darkness between them.

**Chapter 3 **

"Good evening, Monsieur le maire."

Madeleine halts as if a feral animal has jumped into his path. He tries to keep any hint of fear from his face when he nods: "Good evening, Inspector." Perhaps Javert was following him. Perhaps Javert has begun to guess...

"I had not seen you these past days. When you have a moment, I would like to discuss the rash of pickpockets." Madeleine had not heard that this problem had increased. He is about to request a report when he observes that Javert's eyes dart about nervously.

Has Javert sought Madeleine out merely for his company?

"Please, come inside. I was going to have tea." Javert looks both disconcerted and pleased at the invitation, the same way he looks when the local children tug on his hand demanding that he admire their latest discovery or solve their latest problem.

It would be rude to refuse the mayor's invitation, which perhaps is why Javert nods shortly and follows Madeleine into his home. The Inspector glances around as if cataloguing items or perhaps gauging escape routes; there is the front door, the large lower window, and the rear door that leads to Madeleine's spartan bedroom, though it is best not to think of bedrooms now. Merely having Javert seated in his parlor makes Madeleine feel lightheaded.

"The pickpockets?" he inquires. Javert's brow furrows. "You were going to tell me about them."

"Yes." Javert clears his throat. "Three incidents since Sunday. I suspect someone may have recruited one of the children to do his work for him."

"Then I am confident that it will not take you long to find the culprit. You are a hero to all the children in Montreuil." Madeleine smiles to see Javert frown and shake his head. "There can be no denying it. I have seen you too often helping to fix their wagons and collecting the things they've dropped from the market."

"They tell me you make toys for them out of straw and coconuts. I have no such skill."

"I could teach you, if you wish." There is no straw in the house, but there are apples, so Madeleine juggles three of them before passing one to Javert, who purses his lips as if he isn't sure whether he should smile. Such attention makes him daring. "Have you never thought to find a wife and have children of your own?"

The apple into which Javert sinks his teeth can't hide his blush. He takes his time chewing and swallowing, shaking his head. "I have never had time for a family. Nor could I afford one." The shrewd eyes study Madeleine. "But, if I may be so bold, your circumstances are different, and you are good with children."

There is a question beneath the observation, but Madeleine doesn't believe it to be the most obvious one. Still, that is the one he dares to answer: "I think of the people of Montreuil as my family. Their children are all my responsibility."

This evasion does not deter Javert, who has also grown bold. Perhaps the juggling has made the mayor seem less magisterial. "Then you never wanted to marry?"

"Perhaps when I was only a child myself. But I did not think I had anything to offer a wife." It is a half-truth, like so many things that he says to Javert. "What about you? Did you always want to be an Inspector?"

"I feel fortunate that it was possible."

There is something bleak in Javert's voice that surprises Madeleine. He watches Javert gaze into his teacup as if he would read the tea leaves, and says, "You are good at what you do. The people trust you."

Javert's head jerks up. "I do not require their trust, only their obedience to the law."

"Their trust will help them to be obedient, and to think to warn you when the law is violated. They must believe that you temper justice with mercy."

The rigidity of Javert's chin has a disturbing familiarity. "Justice is justice," he declares. "The law must be obeyed. I am surprised to hear a man in your position speak of mercy for a lawbreaker."

"Yet you do not believe that a small boy should be beaten for breaking his father's rules." Madeleine struggles to keep his voice even. "Surely there must be criminals driven not by wickedness but desperation? And convicts incapable of understanding the crimes of which they have been convicted?"

The Inspector stares at Madeleine. "You know that I was a prison guard," he begins. "But you do not know that I was raised among criminals. I have heard all manner of excuses to justify crimes. Children must be raised to know right from wrong, and good people must be kept safe from evildoers. That is God's law as well as our law in Montreuil."

"Then you have never met a man who had committed some infraction who was also industrious and honest?" demands Madeleine.

"I have met men whom I hoped were honest." Javert leans forward. "You resemble a man I knew at Toulon. Like you, he was a big man, strong, but I never saw him act with cruelty. I thought prison had reformed him. I was wrong. He broke his parole and disappeared."

"Perhaps he died." The words sound feeble in Madeleine's own ears. He dares not lift his teacup lest his hand shake.

"Or perhaps he wished to pretend that he was no longer the man he had been." Javert holds up what's left of his apple. "All men fall in small ways. In time each will reveal his true nature." He is watching Madeleine (_Valjean_) too closely. "But I have taken up too much of your time, Monsieur."

The apple has a dark spot on its skin. "What will you do if your pickpocket is the child you thought too young for beating?" asks Madeleine.

Javert scowls. "I will do my duty."

There are no smiles when they say goodnight to one another.

**Chapter 4 **

After Madeleine lifts the cart to save Fauchelevent, he is celebrated by the entire town. People bring him flowers and fruit, though many of them have little to spare. Men who were not there - or who were there yet could not be persuaded to help - bow to Madeleine in the lane to express their admiration. Boys chase after him, shouting praise, showing off their own muscles.

Only one man glowers as the children wave and shout for the mayor. Madeleine does not allow himself to flinch from that gaze, just as he did not when he watched Javert realize why the mayor's strength had always seemed familiar, when Javert half-spoke an accusation. Beneath the terror that Javert knows the true name of Madeleine (_Valjean, he will always be Valjean_), the mayor finds unexpected relief.

No longer will he add lying to his sins. Let Javert gather what evidence he thinks he can find. If Javert denounces him, if an investigation threatens the peace of the town, Madeleine will depart just as he arrived, without a word to anyone. He has prepared for it.

Meanwhile, there is nothing he can do but wait and go about his business. The factory remains prosperous, the town continues to grow. The children become tired of Javert's stern words and make the mayor their only confidant once again. So do their parents, for Javert has become more aggressive in his inquiries, quicker to make arrests. There are fewer incidents with pickpockets and petty thieves and whores than there had been when Madeleine arrived in Montreuil, yet more are sent to prison.

Javert no longer finds reasons to visit the factory except when he must deliver a report. His route never takes him by Madeleine's home. If he misses their conversations as much as Madeleine does, he shows it only in his scowls.

Madeleine tries not to let himself wonder what Javert might look like in a moment of true happiness, not the fleeting pleasure of a child's regard, but the assurance of lasting peace and love.

So Madeleine's heart races in shock when Javert comes to confess that he has made a false report. The mayor has much on his mind already: the factory's books, the town's finances, and that lying snake of an innkeeper who will not send Fantine's child without more money. Madeleine had not liked having to overrule Javert in front of other policemen, but Javert had left him no choice, insisting on punishment for a much tormented woman who could hardly stand. How could that sort of justice have brought any sort of satisfaction to Javert? It would help no one, it would protect no one, it would reform no one. It is the justice of Toulon, which is no justice at all.

Madeleine answers Javert's self-recrimination by rote, calling the betrayal Javert's duty. He would like to tell the truth, to have no more lies between them, but he does not dare to turn himself in yet. He must go to Arras so that the entire court may see the injustice they have nearly committed upon an innocent man.

Surely, thinks Madeleine - no, he is Valjean now, he has spoken it aloud - surely Javert will wish to make the arrest himself. And he is right, though Javert chooses the worst possible moment to arrive; it is likely that nothing could have saved Fantine, but she did not need to die in such terror. Valjean does not say so to Javert. He knows what Fantine would consider more important.

"She leaves behind a child, Monsieur Inspector," he pleads. "Let me intercede on her behalf. There is no other. Grant me three days' grace. Come with me if you wish."

Contempt distorts Javert's features. He laughs, a terrible sound, so different from the helpless giggle of a man being licked by a puppy. "You are making sport of me. Three days in which to run away!"

"I beg of you." It will be easy enough to flee, to hide his money, leaving suitable sums for the poor and the factory in the protection of its workers, but there is still the matter of Fantine's daughter. "Her child is being abused, Javert. She is not being cared for; she is not being taught right from wrong. After you take me to prison, will you find her? Will you protect the children of this town when I am gone?"

"Those scamps who follow you because you give them money?" Javert's voice drips derision. "They will learn the meaning of the law. As for that creature's child, she is none of my concern."

"She is a little girl, like those little girls who bring you wildflowers and carry their rabbits in baskets to show you. In mercy's name! I will pay whatever is necessary, only let me save her. She is alone. She must be afraid. Like a kitten on a branch. Do this for us both."

Already he can see that he will lose this argument. Javert has pulled his weapon. Valjean grasps a plank of wood and fights him, only half-listening as Javert tells him more of the story he has only hinted at before, that he is the child of convicts, that he was born inside a jail. This sense of justice, then, this hatred of those who have strayed from the path, is not only directed at others. Valjean shudders to think what Javert might do to himself if he ever felt himself untrue to his own exacting standards.

"Believe of me what you will, a man may be a criminal and yet be a good man. I learned that from a priest. He lied to the police to save me. As for me, I will see this justice done. Think on that, Javert, before it is too late."

Too late for whom? Valjean can see that his words have perplexed Javert, but the window is behind him now. No kind soul can climb up to save him. So he jumps.

**Chapter 5**

For an instant, before he remembers that this is a disaster which could destroy his life, it is as though a miracle has occurred when he hears the girl shout, "It's Javert!"

Fauchelevant (_he is still Valjean_) goes still when he hears the name, though he has been struggling frantically to escape from Thenardier's gang, to protect Cosette from these men who could do so much worse than rob him. While the presence of a policeman might serve as a welcome distraction, a chance to escape as the thugs scramble to cover their activities, the law is even more dangerous to Fauchelevent (_he will always be Valjean_).

Yet that is not why he freezes in his tracks as though a wind from the past has turned him to ice. Twice before, he has been certain that he saw Javert in Paris; twice before, he has fled with Cosette, eventually hiding in a place no man would dare seek them there. No longer must he wonder what became of the man whom Madeleine (_also Valjean_) fled in Montreuil-sur-Mer, whether his actions caused the inspector to fall upon hard times for allowing a criminal to escape.

He watches Javert scoop up Gavroche and set him aside as if the boy exists only as an impediment to an investigation. It is very different from Javert's demeanor toward the children of Montreuil, though Fauchelevent thinks that this poor street urchin has likely never had the luxury to weep over a kitten trapped in a tree. Gavroche's eyes are older than his years, and his expression, though startled while Javert is lifting him aside, quickly turns cunning. This child will become a wily fox, not an affectionate house cat.

But Valjean cannot worry about the boy now. He must protect Cosette, still a little girl to him, though he has seen young men look at her differently. Grave threats rise on either side of them: the agent of the police who would take her father from her, the faces from the past that might summon her origins. Her eyes are frightened as he spins her around, desperate to hide his own face, to flee before Thenardier can tell Javert that the gentleman whom Javert seeks to protect has done far worse in the eyes of the law than the street gang that sought to rob him.

Gavroche is peering curiously at Valjean. Though Valjean knows the boy from the streets and the church where Monsieur Fauchelevent sometimes offers coins to help beggars, he has never made an animal out of straw for Gavroche, nor asked about his parents. So near to the child, Valjean can see the resemblance to Thenardier, and a shudder runs through him at the recognition that that vile man who treated the child Cosette like a slave would abandon his own son to the street.

But that is all the thought Valjean can spare for the boy, for he must get Cosette to safety. He has been a fool to bring her with him on these small missions of mercy, though she always asks to go, to see the world at his side. Her faith in her father is such that she has never been fully aware of the danger that follows where he goes. He sees her smile gratefully in Javert's direction, unaware that the policeman threatens her happiness just as surely as the thugs.

Javert has turned toward Thenardier's gang and Valjean seizes his chance. He grabs Cosette's hand, tugging her past the shops and stalls, around slouching old men and seated begging women. Eyes follow them, and even as they run, Valjean realizes that he must be more careful, for Cosette is becoming beautiful. It is not only his own prejudiced gaze that sees it. The heads of young men swivel as they pass. He has been a fool to take her out among them, though what choice does he have but to be a tyrant, to keep her in the quiet of their home with only an old man for company? The pensive, melancholy girl blossoms when she is among people; she is no longer the shy creature whom some part of Valjean had hoped would never change.

As they race away from the crowded Place St-Michel, Valjean turns toward the Jardin du Luxembourg. They will lose themselves there before seeking the secret passage that will take them to the Rue Plumet, which Valjean does not believe Javert could have discovered, though he has taken the precaution of keeping lodgings in the Rue de l'Ouest and the Rue de l'Homme Armé in case they should need to disappear. Perhaps it is not enough. Perhaps he should make inquiries about passage to Calais, and, from there, to England.

Cosette glances at him curiously, her expression less afraid than concerned. Since those early days when they had taken shelter in the convent, he has rarely allowed her to see him upset or frightened; he has rarely had reason to do so, though now he can see that he has not been cautious enough. She is still a child and he is still a convict whom Javert will never stop hunting.

Valjean tries not to think back on those few happy weeks in Montreuil-sur-Mer. They seem a lifetime ago, as distant as the childhood in Faverolles which he scarcely remembers. He does not want to recall his brief hope that Javert might become a friend. He will not let himself remember the way Javert made him feel when he saw Javert climb a tree or protect a child or smile at him.

"It's a time that is dead," he tells Cosette when she asks about the past. He can see that soon it will not be enough for her, this beloved girl in his charge who is no longer a child.

He cannot bear to have her discover his history or slip out of his life. He knows what the pain of that would be like from having lost Javert.

**Chapter 6 **

Though his faith has never wavered since those days long ago when the Bishop saved his soul, Valjean often reflects on the thought that God answers prayers unexpectedly, sometimes in small ways that might go unnoticed to one who does not wish to see. When he had first longed for the brief camaraderie he shared with Javert, God sent him a child instead of a friend. After many years of quiet, when he wondered to distraction about the fates of people from a past he'd thought he had escaped, he found first Thenardier, then Javert.

He had wondered at the consolations granted by God when he went to the barricade to try to save Marius, only to find himself with the chance to save Javert. His faith had never been stronger than it was while he climbed from the sewer with Marius on his back, encountering Javert once more, pleading with the Inspector to spare an innocent life.

Now there can be no errors, no surprising revelations, no exchanges. Valjean does not dare to give words to his prayer; he is afraid that if he asks God to show Javert His love, to grant Javert peace, to make Javert see that he has always been wrong about mercy, in any instance it may pull Javert into the river.

"Come down from there, please," he begs, holding out a hand. "I said things that I should not have said to you, Javert. I asked you to let me save that young man. The fault is mine. Arrest me and know that I hold you blameless."

"It's too late for that." Javert will not meet Valjean's eyes. He looks up toward the heavens, but the early light of dawn and the mist from the river have obscured the night sky. "The world I have known is lost in shadow."

"The world has not changed." Though it is nearly summer, the wind from the river makes them both shiver. "Perhaps you have changed, but only in small ways. I have never forgotten the man I knew in Montreuil, a man of justice who defended children, who could talk a kitten down from a ledge."

"I needed no words, only the strength of my arm. And it was many years ago." This is nothing like trying to fetch a cat down from a tree. There are no branches to break the fall. "You speak of justice for children? One of the army officers shot a child."

"I know. I saw." Valjean could never forget that sight, the face of Gavroche smiling in defiance as he fell. "That is not your fault either. Many young men gave up their lives this night."

"Stupid young men. Traitors, all, and you stood with them. Yet while they gave up their lives, you gave me back mine."

"You have only ever done your duty, and I am not a man of vengeance. I tried to tell you in Montreuil, when you had only a suspicion of who I was."

"That boy who died told the traitors who I was. They knew, and they wanted me dead. But the child is dead and I am still alive." When, finally, Javert looks at Valjean, his eyes are dark with grief. "Why did you let me live, Valjean? You have left me with nothing but doubt."

"You'll find no answers in the river. Please, Javert. I'll do anything you wish, only step back now. Come back to me and let me tell you how I was saved by stolen silver."

Javert's laugh is harsh and bitter. "Come back to you? You, who have only ever led me into darkness? If you knew my thoughts, Valjean, you would not say such a thing."

The words are chosen to wound, to remind Valjean that in Javert's eyes he will always be an evildoer, but Valjean does not let himself reflect on them. "God will forgive your thoughts and so will I. The law is not the whole of justice."

"The law is all we have of justice! It kept you safe from me at Toulon, when I watched you but would never have broken my oath as the other guards did to take what they wished from convicts. It prevented me from confronting you myself in Montreuil-sur-Mer because I feared what I might ask you to do in exchange for my silence. You told me once that a man may be a criminal yet be a good man; do you not see that a man of justice may yet be a villain?" Javert swings his arm and nearly slips over the edge. "Without the law, I am the same as you!"

Valjean strains forward, releasing his grip on the rail that keeps him anchored. If a strong wind blows, or if Javert pulls too hard on his arm, they will fall into the Seine together. Perhaps that is as is should be, for Javert's words have woken memories in Valjean he had believed dormant forever. The hand extended toward Javert does not waver. "You're a man just as I am. You would not have needed threats to have whatever you wished of me. You may blame me for that, too, only come down and punish me some other way."

"Why must you do this to me, Valjean?" There is anguish in Javert's voice and eyes are cast downward at the rushing water. "It's not a small thing to watch you destroy everything I have believed throughout my life."

"It's not a small thing to jump from a bridge, either. Step back. I will meet you halfway." Valjean slides his foot forward along the slippery stone. "Just one step back," he whispers to Javert and to God. It is the smallest thing he dares to ask. "One step, or we both fall."

"Like Lucifer," says Javert.

"Like children who know not what they do." This is the end, thinks Valjean. He steps across the distance, grasping at nothing.

Then Javert's fingers are in his.

**Chapter 7 **

"No." Jean's fist strikes the table harder than he intends, rattling the teacups. Javert's creeps precariously close to the edge.

With a sigh, Javert retrieves his cup, glancing inside at the tea leaves. After so much time, Jean understands that Javert does this not to avoid eye contact, but because Javert's mother told fortunes and he has never reformed himself from the habit of looking. "You're being foolish." Javert frowns into the cup as if he is divining this information from the pattern on the bottom rather than from Jean's behavior. "More foolish than that husband of hers."

"Marius and I are in agreement. Nothing matters more to me than keeping Cosette safe." When Javert sets down the cup, looking as if he may storm away from the table, Jean adds, "Nothing apart from you. But I would not risk disgracing her..."

"This is not about her reputation. You're afraid that she will reject you like that fool Marius, who loves Cosette no less because of your past."

To give himself something to do, Jean reaches for the teapot and refills their cups. Even if Javert were pretending not to look, he could not miss the sound of the lid's rattle. "She is an angel," says Jean, letting Javert take the teapot out of his shaking hand. "She was raised in a convent."

"She lived with Thenardier. She must have seen something of that world in that establishment."

"I pray that she has forgotten. If she has not, I could not bear for her to think of me as a man who belongs among such people. I want her to remember me as her dear Papa -"

He is interrupted by a whine and a commotion as a silver-gray shape leaps onto the table. Javert grabs at the cups before they can skid off the edge. Jean rolls his eyes. He has asked Javert not to let the cats wander freely through the house, but Javert forgets, or more likely he never intends to remember. When Jean watches this one rub against Javert's hand, he can't bring himself to remind him. No matter how much milk they allow the Silver Thief to lap up, the cat remains as thin as the first time Javert spotted her.

"At least tell her not to jump on the furniture."

"She won't obey me. Cats are wise enough to see that some rules are folly. As a man on a bridge once told me, there is more to justice than the law." Javert never seems to notice that he smiles when he rubs his thumb between the cat's ears. "If you don't speak to Cosette, she will stop remembering you as her dear Papa. You'll become the man who disappeared and broke her heart."

"I have seen her heart break before. We saw a chain gang, once. She was -" Jean has no words for the horror that had been on Cosette's face and in his belly when he witnessed it. "You know what happens when good people learn that a man is a convict. The people of Montreuil-sur-Mer forgot that I had ever done any good for them -"

"Perhaps that's what was said at first. They were in shock. But I doubt that it remained so." Javert gazes at him from behind the contented animal who has curled herself upon their table. His fingers reach across the cat to Jean. "You tell me that Cosette is a clever girl. She must have her suspicions about why you always kept to yourself. Didn't she ask you for answers? Don't you fear that even now she suspects Marius knows more than he is telling? You may be causing difficulties for her without ever speaking to her."

There is no denying that Cosette did ask, though surely she could never imagine the truth. Jean trusts Marius to keep her content, for he knows that Marius would concoct any story to keep Cosette safe from Jean (_Valjean_). "She has a husband now. She won't want me -"

"She didn't marry him to escape from you. You're the one who's hiding. Don't ask me to watch you suffer and grow ill because you refuse to try."

"Would you have me make her suffer instead? An innocent? What do you think will happen when she learns the truth, Inspector? She will never be the same, and then we will all suffer."

Javert sighs as the cat squirms and leaps off the table, disappearing as quickly as she arrived. "I don't believe that Cosette could have lived with you for so many years without having absorbed your preoccupation with forgiveness. How much did you change me in just a few weeks?"

Jean's fingers find Javert's. They do not often speak of that hour on the bridge and the days afterward; he had thought it made Javert ashamed to do so, but he wonders whether Javert is just as afraid of reminding him of things spoken in anger and fear. "You changed me, too," he murmurs. "Just as she did. I was so happy to have you safe with me. What had happened in the past didn't matter. I had only felt that sort of joy before when I first took Cosette from Thenardier, and again when we left the convent, when I thought she would always be in my life. I know you believed we might both be damned, but nothing that made me feel so much love could be evil. We might not be here now if I had not learned to recognize love from her."

"Then stop being foolish and let me write to her. It's not possible for me to do as much for you as you did for me, but let me do this small thing."

"And if she tells you she no longer loves me, knowing what I was?"

"You confuse her with the man I used to be." Javert's expression is both exasperated and amused. "Those who know you so well can't help but love you, Jean."

**Chapter 8 **

Javert's face when he steps through the door is stormier than the weather. He has left his boots outside, but mud spatters his trousers and sleeves. "Let me help you..." begins Jean.

"No. Stay where you are." Javert points at him with an expression that will brook no argument.

"I have a cough, not the plague." Jean watches as Javert shifts his clothing, wiping off his hands, hiding his face for a long moment in the uneven scarf Marie made him. He has been burying one of their cats. Jean wanted to go with him - Jean wanted to do it himself, to spare Javert that sadness - but the day before, Jean could barely get out of bed. It frightens him when he must leave Javert alone to face darkness and death.

Javert puts another log on the fire, checks to see whether Jean still has tea, and settles himself close behind him, rubbing his shoulders. "Do you suppose there are cats in Heaven?" he asks wistfully.

"They certainly would not have climbed down to the other place." It's a poor joke but it makes Javert chuckle, rubbing his face in Jean's hair. "We'll see all our animals again soon enough, even Jeanne's mice, and for once they'll have enough to eat."

"Don't you expect to see them too soon," Javert warns, giving his shoulders a squeeze. It reminds Jean of his thoughts while Javert was outside in the rain, burying the cat with only God for company.

"Promise me something," he says as lightly as he can.

"Anything."

"If you should outlive me..." Jean hesitates. He can feel Javert tensing. "Promise me that no one will have to convince you to come down from a bridge."

Javert remains pressed against him, but the warm shape that had been wrapped over Jean like a blanket has turned into an unyielding brick. "Ah, a very small promise," Javert says shortly. "Very well - I will not climb up on any bridges."

Of course, thinks Valjean. It had been a poor choice of words on his part. This is Javert to whom he is speaking, whose devotion to the letter of the law has never fully disappeared, though Javert is now more skilled than Jean at wringing meaning from words until he can justify a great deal, even his failure to report an escaped convict for many years past. "You know what I mean," Jean says, coughing a bit. "Not only bridges. No ropes. No laudanum."

He tries to turn, to slide his fingers beneath Javert's chin, to force Javert to look at him, but Javert will not be moved. He sits rigidly, his eyes staring with determination at the fire.

"Javert?"

"No." The words, when they come, are quiet yet angry. The hands that had moved so gently through Valjean's hair have gone still, curled now like claws against his shoulders. "Don't ask me to lie to you. And don't ask me to do the impossible."

Jean turns his head. His swollen throat aches, but not as much as the day before. His health is improving. "I would not ask if I didn't believe you had that strength. I'll need you to be strong. For Cosette, for the children -"

"You will need nothing. You won't be here." Javert's voice cracks as if Jean's illness has settled in his throat as well. "When you are with God, you can ask Him to give your family strength. Don't ask it of me."

"They're your family too. They love you. Even Marius." Javert takes the opportunity to sniff, though Jean knows that it is not disagreement that prompts the sound. "I would not have their hearts broken twice in so short a span of time."

"What of my heart? Does my pain mean so little to you?" Finally Javert meets his eyes. "Suppose I die first. It's just as likely. You've always been much stronger than I have, even sitting here shivering and coughing. Will you go live with Cosette and eat well and let the girls read to you and put me out of your thoughts?"

"You have never been out of my thoughts. Nor out of my heart. I doubt that it would keep beating for long in a world where you were not."

He can see the effect this has on Javert, but Javert looks away again. "Suppose you're wrong. Suppose one of us should linger for many years." His fingers clench into Jean's shoulders. "You would force me to continue and know that you as well as God will never forgive me if I break my word?"

As Jean twists to look at Javert properly, the blanket covering his legs slips off. Javert moves to pick it up. Though he puts the blanket back, he takes all the warmth in the room with him when he crosses to the window, looking out at the dark sky. "Javert," Jean says, leaning forward. "I would forgive you for anything. And on the day you arrive at His gates, no matter what you may have done to get there, God will greet you with love."

Javert's hands grasp the window frame. His knuckles are white. "I know you believe that. And I have tried. But all I know of God's love comes from you. Don't ask me to live without that." His shoulders heave.

Though Jean's chest aches, he leans forward, pushing himself up. Javert hears the sound and turns, the grief on his face turning to everyday annoyance.

"Sit down! You aren't -"

"I'm fine. I'm getting better. I've hardly coughed, even though you make me weep."

"You did that to us both." The words are cross but Javert's arms slide around him, supporting his weight, returning his warmth. "No more of this. I'm taking you to bed."

Jean does not argue. He pulls Javert beside him.

"Promise me something," Javert mutters.

"Anything."

Javert hums in satisfaction. "Promise me that you will never die."

Perhaps it is blasphemy, but Jean smiles, nodding. "I will try."

**Chapter 9 **

"Javert!" The children tumble out of the carriage, jostling each other in their haste to be the first to reach him. Behind them, Cosette pretends to swoon. Jean must bite his lip to hide his smile. "We had to stop because of a turtle in the road! Jeanne wanted to bring it to show you, but Mama said no."

Now Cosette rolls her eyes, and Jean laughs aloud as Javert speaks. "The turtle will be happier near its home. Did you move it out of the road?"

"I carried it! Papa didn't want to touch it. It was this big!" They all laugh when Jeanne shows them with her arms. "I told Mama it could live in your garden."

Cosette flings herself into Jean's arms as if she is as young as Jeanne. They rarely behaved so when she was younger, but having children of her own has made her more eager to embrace her father, and being with Javert has made Valjean realize how much love can be conveyed through the simplicity of touch. He swings Cosette around and she giggles like a girl. "The turtle would eat all the food, and then what would we eat?"

"We might have to eat turtle soup," says Javert solemnly. The children gasp, then leap upon him with squeals of outrage, knocking him to the ground for this mockery. Even Javert grins, blowing out his breath to keep Marie's hair off his face.

"You are a terrible man," Cosette tells him.

"So I warned you." Javert's eyes travel from hers to Jean's. It has been a joke between them from the day when Cosette burst through the door, half-sobbing, half-laughing, explaining to Jean that an unidentified person had written her a letter to tell her what her foolish husband would not, that her father lived only an hour's ride away. The letter had ended, _I shall not sign my name, for I am a terrible man whose faults are far more grievous than those of a reformed convict._

Of course the children know nothing of that. "Last time, he gave me so much wine that I was sick!" huffs Jeanne. Javert had been distraught, but once the girl recovered, even Cosette laughed about it. When it came to children, she declared, Javert had no sense whatsoever. They had to stay through the night to let Jeanne recover, and Cosette insisted that the girls sleep in Jean's room, where he and Javert spent hours playing nursemaid while Cosette and Marius slept soundly in the room they all referred to as Javert's.

"Come, Marie, you will soil your dress." Marius smiles as he lifts his daughter off Javert's chest, pausing to let the older man pull straw from her hair. It took a long time for Javert to pardon Marius for being so foolish about Valjean's past, though for Jean there has never been any question of forgiveness. It would be easy enough to care for Marius only because of his efforts to protect Cosette, but Jean loves Marius even more for his warmth toward Javert. The fact that Marius has never said a word about the fact that his wife's fugitive father shares a home with his onetime jailer is all the proof Jean needs that Marius has changed.

Privately he shakes his head at the thought that the boy who was prepared to blow himself up on the barricade might be afraid of being bitten by a turtle. He knows from past visits that Marius will stay back with Cosette while the rest of them tramp out in the field to see if a rainbow has followed the storm, letting their dinner get cold, muddying their shoes, and if Jeanne finds any small creatures along the way in need of rescue, she will entrust their safety only to Javert. "Does Petit Larron still live in the chimney?" she demands.

"He is not petit now - he is very fat," Javert tells her. In fact, one of the cats caught poor Petit Larron weeks earlier, but Javert will never tell the children that, and they will accept his word that the new invader is the same bird they have glimpsed. "Your grandfather has forbidden us to feed him."

"You don't have to listen to him! You are as old as he is!" The glare Jeanne gives Jean could make a lion cower. He can see that Javert is considering whether to protest this last or agree with the first. Their gazes tangle, they wink at one another, and Jeanne's look turns calculating. "Besides, you're also my grandfather."

Javert's eyes move from Jean to Marius. "In point of fact," Javert begins, but Jean interrupts:

"You are as much her grandfather as I am."

Marius does not contradict this.

Cosette clears her throat. "Who makes the rules in our house?"

"You do," the girls reply promptly, in unison.

"Does your Papa always obey the rules?" prompts Cosette.

"No!" shouts Marie. "He puts his dirty boots on the _méridienne_!"

"It's the same here." Jean tries to look beleaguered, but he can feel the flush of happiness upon his face. "Javert doesn't listen to my rules."

"Not feeding Petit Larron is a silly rule!" Jeanne nods the same way Javert does when he states an inarguable fact. "Javert used to be a policeman. He could arrest you!"

Cosette claps a hand over her mouth and Marius tries to make himself cough, but none of them succeeds at holding back gales of laughter, not even Javert. "I tried that once," Javert says, wiping his eyes. "It was disastrous."

"Not so. You've succeeded in keeping me in your custody." Now Cosette covers her ears while Marius hides his face in his hands, but Jean can't stop smiling as he scoops Jeanne into his arms. "Come, let's leave food for the cats before they chase the birds up in the trees and Javert has to bring them down. Did I ever tell you how he rescued a kitten, many years ago?"


End file.
